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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27174172">darling, won't you ease my worried mind</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/danicuh/pseuds/danicuh'>danicuh</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mafia (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:00:16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,869</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27174172</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/danicuh/pseuds/danicuh</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Olive's finally coming around to Paulie's affections—six years later.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Paulie Lombardo/Original Female Character</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>title is from 'layla' by eric clapton.</p><p>this is like february 1934, so between great deal and bon appétit :&gt;</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>He only ever made it out to Oakwood for two reasons—when he was coming out here to bust someone's head open on their glazed wooden floors, or when he was driving Olive home. Today he was driving past those manicured lawns and picket fences for the latter reason.</p><p>Like she always did when she was the passenger, Olive was seated next to Paulie, her eyes closed as she reclined back as far as the seat in his car would allow. He looked over at her every time they stopped at a red light. There was no heater in his car—who could afford a heater in their car these days?—so she had her coat pulled tightly around her. He knew she wasn't actually sleeping, she just hated driving, but she could pass for it. More than a few cars honked at him when he couldn't pull his eyes away and put them back on the road.</p><p>The first several dozen drives she had to remind him of the way, but it was six years now since he first drove her around and it was muscle memory. The other guys drove her sometimes, or she just took a cab, but Paulie took the chance when he could—when he wasn't drunk in someone else's backseat, anyway.</p><p>Like she always did, once they turned onto her street her eyes fluttered open and she sat up straighter.</p><p>"Cold today," she said quietly, more to herself than to him. Their drives were rarely quiet. One of them typically had some tale to tell, and even if Olive was usually sitting in the passenger seat with her eyes closed, she was a good listener. Paulie didn't like the silence, but it was better than saying something stupid.</p><p>Speaking of stupid; he didn't respond to her comment about the cold because the only thing he could think to say was off color. He spoke crassly around her in the restaurant because he never minded himself around the other guys, but he couldn't bring himself to be crude when it was only the two of them—even if she acted similar when she was around the others.</p><p>Paulie parked in front of her townhome and got out of the car, circling around to open the passenger door. She stepped out and looked at him for a moment.</p><p>"Why don't you come inside? Warm up a little." It seemed to be more of a statement than a request, because she was already heading up to her doorstep by the time Paulie registered what she said.</p><p>Every day for the past six years he drove away thinking about what might have happened had she invited him up for the night. They were stupid daydreams which were usually more obscene than he would ever admit, at least never to her. Now she actually was inviting him inside, and he could barely get his shoes to unstick from the ground.</p><p>Paulie followed her to the door, picking up his pace to catch up. "Yeah, it is pretty cold out here, huh?"</p><p>Olive hung her gaudy coat on one of the hooks in the entryway, and Paulie did the same. The only times he saw the inside of her house were when he was walking her to the doorway—at his insistence—or during the few holiday parties she had thrown. He was usually hauled out of those early and was too drunk to remember the details. But the nautical decorations, the loud light fixtures and rugs; all of it screamed Olive. She started down the hall, no doubt leading him to some sitting room larger than his entire apartment; then she abruptly stopped.</p><p>He nearly walked into her because his eyes were fixated on the glamor shots of herself that she kept in the hallway. He would mock any other dame who did something like that, but Olive had so much gall in such a natural way that it made him grin. He wouldn't mind having one of those in his own place.</p><p>"I've been thinking—" she said as she turned to face him, wanting to explain why she invited him in. "Well, as of late, I..." she trailed off, her eyes flickering between his and the wall he was staring at before, and then briefly to the rings on her own hands. She wasn't so good with words when it counted. She could walk the walk, but talking the talk was something she could do only when she wasn't being genuine. In that moment, genuine was all she felt.</p><p>Paulie on the other hand talked more than he walked, and even then he never succeeded.</p><p>"What's the problem?" he asked, concerned but confused. He felt like grabbing her and pulling her closer to him, but that wasn't a thought to even bother entertaining. They were already standing only a couple steps apart, and she had yet to turn the lamps on, so only the evening light reflecting through the windows let him see her face.</p><p>Olive's cheeks flushed and she laughed, somewhat bewildered—in all of six years she never could have guessed this would be happening in her hallway. The entire ride there she envisioned how it would play out, but the plan was already falling apart. If anyone knew how scatterbrained she really was about things like this…</p><p>"Oh, there's no problem at all," she said quickly. Instead of trying to confess anything or explain herself, instead of stuttering out some other half-baked thought, she decided to do what she did best. She took a bold step forward, closing most of the gap and setting a hand on his arm with a smile. "Why don't you just kiss me?"</p><p>"Olive…" he whispered, looking at the hand on his wrist in disbelief.</p><p>She put her arms around him at once, clinging tightly to the back of his suit jacket. "We'd have a perfectly stupid time."</p><p><em> Wasn't that the truth</em>… He didn't know what to say, his gaze fixed on hers—and then her lips. She was wearing that wine-colored lipstick he liked, the one that was a little out of style now but that she insisted would come back around. Before he could do anything else, her grip on his jacket tightened, and she pulled him forward—guess he was taking too long on that kiss. His hands trailed down her neck and arms to find a resting place on the small of her back. He could feel the warm skin beneath her dress—if they were cold outside, they weren't now.</p><p>They stood embraced in the hallway for not nearly long enough, and to his own surprise it was Paulie who pulled away from the kiss. She rested her head against his chest, and he kept his arms around her shoulders. He could feel some nagging voice in the back of his head, something he rarely experienced. This moment, this thing he always dreamed of, and all he could think about were her previous rejections. How did he know she wasn't simply bored with the cookie-cutter society boys she toyed with? Maybe that was true, and something else was, too. He was afraid to ask tonight.</p><p>He wanted to stay and kiss her again, kiss her a hundred times. Instead he closed his eyes, taking a second more to hold her against him and dream. "I better go, Olive," he mumbled. "Wouldn't wanna disappoint ya." It was more himself he was afraid for.</p><p>Olive looked at him, lost in her own thoughts. She didn't know what he meant, but she didn't want him to let go. It felt nice in his arms; too nice. Nicer than she'd felt in a long time. She could've fallen asleep in them, if he let her.</p><p>He pulled away, her fingertips slowly tracing the span of his back in reluctance. "Goodnight, Paulie," she said quietly back.</p><p>He grabbed his coat and put it back on, already dreading heading back outside into the cold and regretting what he had said. Too little, too late for that, so he nodded to her and left. Back to the couch and his dreams.</p><p>Olive kept watching the door long after he closed it. <em> You could never disappoint me, you idiot. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The restaurant was closed for the night. There were the usual stragglers hanging around the back, like Ralphie in the garage he almost never left and Frank in the office with the account books, but otherwise the lights were off and the place was quiet. Paulie hated it when it was quiet.</p><p>He was heading for the street, another slow day over with at last. It would be the same again in the morning, back to the rackets he was assigned, no sense of excitement anywhere. Prohibition had been over long enough for the dust to settle, and now he was itching for something to happen. He was getting rusty, he could tell.</p><p>Paulie was so busy dreaming up something exciting that he didn't notice the dark-haired woman sitting at one of the diner seats in the front of the restaurant.</p><p>"Leaving without saying goodbye?"</p><p>Paulie jumped. "Christ, Olive, you can't sneak up on a guy like that."</p><p>Olive stood, leaning against the bannister with her arms crossed. "I was just sitting here enjoying the view of the street. I might say you snuck up on me."</p><p>Paulie hadn't drank since that night at Olive's house—not as much as he usually did, and he certainly hadn't visited any gentleman's clubs. He was thinking about things he never cared to think about before, with a sudden awareness of what Olive thought of him. He always cared, of course, but there was no end goal until now. They'd spoken only sparingly since the kiss because of how busy he was, but for the past couple weeks she was one of the only things on his mind.</p><p>He wanted to talk to her about it, to hear what she was trying to say before she asked him to kiss her, but he was almost afraid of the answer. He knew what he wanted her to say, but he thought he liked it better when she was unattainable. Having something to look at without ever getting a hold of it was easier, because if you lost it you could stop missing it quicker. At least that's what Sam always reminded him of. But then again, he was nothing like Sam.</p><p>"Do you have anything you'd like to say to me, or are you just gonna stand around and stare all night?" Olive's voice was a little louder then, and he could hear her annoyance.</p><p>"You're one to talk," he answered with absolutely nothing to back up that statement.</p><p>"So you <em> do </em> want to talk." Olive sauntered forward, coming close and brushing something off the front of his suit jacket.</p><p>"Come on, Olive. Why are you messing with my head?"</p><p>Olive frowned, her face falling. She felt a little dumbfounded; of course he was aware of her fickleness, but she never could have guessed it would become a problem between the two of them. <em> A little foolish on my part. </em> The last thing she wanted was to upset him with her newfound feelings, but she didn't expect him to outright accuse her of playing with him. Perhaps it was a little idealistic, that she imagined he would be immediately welcoming after six years of rejections.</p><p>"I'm not trying to mess with your head, Paulie," she said, her voice softer now. "Like I said before… I've just been thinking." Two weeks to decide on what to say and it still wasn't enough time. "I care about you, you know. I mean, we've been friends for some time, but it's… I feel alright around you, I've noticed. Different than I've felt around anyone else." <em> Anyone else </em> constituted a very long list.</p><p>"And you're just realizing that <em>now</em>?" Hey, he wasn't going to admit he'd been chasing her for six years, but...it had been six years. Everyone in the family knew it. He never entertained the thought of her feeling anything for him seriously, even if he was often the end of jokes about it from Sam—sometimes he even made them himself.</p><p>"So what's wrong with that?"</p><p>"'Cause I'm still just the same guy, Olive."</p><p>"Well, I see you differently now. Sometimes things change."</p><p>Paulie's mouth quirked. He wanted to kiss her again; but not yet. "So what does that mean?"</p><p>Olive sighed and looked at the ceiling. "It means I like you, you lug. That I could love you and I want you to love me back. Now does it make sense?"</p><p>It did. Paulie grabbed her by the waist and kissed her. A real, good kiss, even better than last time because it was spontaneous—and he was the instigator. She grabbed him by the shoulders and reciprocated. That was easier than talking.</p><p>Their foreheads pressed together, he looked down at her with a half-smile. "I ain't nothing like those other guys you hang around."</p><p>Olive scoffed. "And thank God for that."</p><p>"Yeah, thank God for that," he mumbled against her. "You know, I think I oughta be mad you waited six years for this."</p><p>"I would say it's been more like three months."</p><p>"For you, maybe! Hey, wait, three months?" Paulie tilted his head back, looking at her incredulously.</p><p>"I've had a lot of time to think, I told you!" Olive poked a finger against his chest.</p><p>"Then maybe we should make up for lost time," he said, starting to lean into a kiss again, but she held up a hand to stop him.</p><p>"Wait. Come here," Olive muttered, pulling him by his hands over to one of the tables. "Lift me up."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Set me on the table, Paulie, so we can look at each other eye to eye."</p><p>"You're a real weird girl, you know that, Olive?" Paulie shook his head in amusement, but nevertheless he hiked her up by the thighs and set her on the table. The darkness outside had truly set it now, and the only lights coming in the window behind her were the headlights of the occasional car passing and a single street light in front of the bar.</p><p>"I guess that's why you always tried to take me out, huh?" Olive put her arms around his neck and he leaned into them, his hands still set on her waist.</p><p>"A coupla different reasons, but sure, we'll go with that." He could hardly see her features from this position, with the poor lighting outside hitting her back, but he could feel the warmth of her skin against him and that was enough. He mostly had it all memorized anyway.</p><p>Olive's eyes searched his face. This, this was her worst thing, the sentimentality. She meant every word of it—but she still felt insincere. He seemed to be well enough off with it, in any case.</p><p>"What?" Paulie smirked, trying to guess what she was thinking.</p><p>"Just looking at you." She paused for a moment. "You know, you should have stayed that night."</p><p>"Don't I know it. Anyway, that's all over with now. Why don't you tell me what's got you changin' your mind about me?"</p><p>Olive played with the rings on her fingers, rolling her eyes. "Well, certainly not because you're any less difficult."</p><p>"Jeez, thanks, Olive."</p><p>"I'm nearly thirty years old now, I thought I ought to pull myself together and confront my feelings." Olive sighed when he snorted. "Come on, Paulie, I'm serious."</p><p>"Nah, I'm not laughing at you. I get it."</p><p>"Then it makes sense? What I said?" Olive ran her fingers through his hair. Even that felt different than what she was used to. "That I could love you and I want you to love me back?"</p><p>"Yeah, I think I could manage that," Paulie mumbled, his face now in the crook of her neck. He wasn't going to mention it to her, not yet, but he could feel he was already pretty close to that outcome.</p><p>"Good." She kept her fingers in his hair, her eyes drifting closed. "Why don't we go back to my place? We can talk a little more."</p><p>"Why not my place?" He looked her in the face again, suddenly eager.</p><p>"Ah, I just prefer it is all." She could imagine the state of his apartment, given the usual state of his car, and she didn't want to get too hasty and get stuck at his place all night. She'd rather drive all the way across town—and it would be easier if he stayed over.</p><p>"Sure, sure." He pulled her off the table and back into a standing position. "I'll drive you over to your place just like any other night."</p><p>"Not recently!" she said with a huff, grabbing her coat and purse from the coat rack—she left them there in anticipation—as they made for the door. "I've been taking cabs. Real independent-like."</p><p>"You sure you're turning thirty?" Paulie nudged her in the side.</p><p>Olive didn't look over. She knew he had that dumb smile on his face; the one she liked. "Oh, come on, Paulie."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>as always, comments are appreciated.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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